Reminiscent Steele
by RJ Harrington
Summary: With Laura already injured, Remington must solve a case and find a killer before the madman strikes again.
1. Chapter 1

Reminiscent Steele

Vol. 10; Ch. 1

(Rating: K+)

By R.J. Harrington,

The end of hospital visiting hours found Remington Steele sitting at the crux of the wall and floor, his knees pulled to his chest and head resting on folded arms. He'd given up on sleep, alternating one uncomfortable position for the next. He was sure the floor nurse would ask him to leave, to go home and get some sleep, but he wasn't going anywhere. This was his fault and damned if he wasn't going to stay with Laura until there wasn't a reason to.

Laura was unsure about this case from the beginning, and now it was Friday and they'd been working the crooked business owner for a week. Undercover tasks offered unexpected perils that made it impossible to fully prepare for any contingency, and this case was the worst.

A partner in a law firm asked Remington Steele Investigations to find out what shady enterprise his cohort was involved in that would lead to more than $2 million going missing in the last six months. Laura was working as an office assistant, and after four days, she still hadn't seen the man they were investigating much less gathered any substantial information to satisfy their client. She needed to talk to Remington.

During a break, she found a payphone in the lobby.

"I don't know, Remington. I've checked files in all of the offices and there's nothing suspicious that I can see. I'm beginning to think this Mr. Callahan doesn't exist."

"You would know my dear."

"I'm serious. Something is going on and I think we should back out of this one."

"Quit a case? Laura, I'm shocked. I never thought I'd hear such blasphemy."

"Can you drop the petulant child routine?"

"Consider it dropped. … I'm all ears."

Laura began to rattle off her theories. She was certain Mr. Callahan was simply a front for another partner in the firm, potentially their client, but she wasn't sure why. During the investigation, she'd found more on their client and other partners than the suspect himself.

There were connections to a surreptitious oil magnet with ties to illegal trading and upper crust junk bonds. They'd run afoul of him before and his nasty reputation for rubbing out competitors. She went on and on, looking around to make sure no one was listening. She'd become paranoid, uncharacteristically, and her voice started to shake.

"Laura, you're beginning to worry me."

"Join the party."

"But, we can't drop the case."

"What? Aren't you the one begging me to work less, play more? To be more cautious? Reminding me that cases like this aren't worth the danger now that we're parents?"

"Uh, yes, well that does sound like me, but Rollins called today and said he would double our fee if we could find something, anything, on Callahan."

"Of course. You and your fees." Laura leaned her head against the edge of the payphone casing. "OK. I'll give it until the end of the weekend and then we're done. No fees. No client. Deal?"

"You drive a hard bargain Mrs. Steele. See you tonight."

Remington checked his watch, scrunching his face in concern. She was late, a whole hour late. She was supposed to meet him at the office and then leave for dinner. Laura never missed a date night, especially when she knew it would be just them. Their son, Daniel, was visiting cousins and Laura's sister for the weekend, leaving them alone to enjoy their short-lived freedom, including making love all night for the first time in months.

He rubbed his forehead and picked up the office phone. Something was wrong, and he needed help. He remembered Detective Jarvis owned him a favor for finding one of the city's most wanted, and Remington intended to call it in.

He began to dial when two uniforms appeared at his office door.

"Can I help you?"

"Are you Remington Steele?"

"Yes." He stood and walked around to the front of the desk.

"We need you to come with us sir. Your wife has been involved in an accident. She's on her way to Cedars-Sinai."

Remington fell against the edge of the desk, hanging on to anything he could. Images flashed in random order – their life, her clothes, her smile, her hair, her family, and their son. Remington couldn't bring himself to ask the one question he wanted answered. He simply leaned awkwardly against the desk, trying to keep from falling on the floor. After what seemed like minutes, he broke his vacant stare and looked at the officers.

They must have understood his silent need or maybe they were just seasoned pros with traumatized families because they offered an answer.

"Mr. Steele? Please sir, she's not doing well. We really need you to come with us, so we can get you to the ER as quickly as possible. Detective's orders."

Remington staggered to grab his wallet and keys before backing out of Remington Steele Investigations. After twisting the lock at the bottom of the door, he stood and stared at the silver lettering of the suite. He imagined Laura breezing through the door arguing with him about something, anything. If he wasn't in shock, he would've smiled.

"OK, let's go."

Remington watched the light from the sixth floor window slide dim as the evening set in. A trauma specialist stood at the door explaining Laura's condition, what needed to be done, her chances of survival. Remington wasn't listening.

"Mr. Steele, did you hear me?"

"Huh, yes, thank you doctor." He never looked up.

The physician turned to the floor nurse as she left the room, "I'm not sure he caught a word I said, so please go over it with him when he's ready. I need him to talk to her. At least get him to talk to you."

"Right."

Margaret Russell had worked as a trauma nurse for 20 years, much longer than most. But, here is where she had the greatest impact, during moments like these, when someone needed faith.

"Hi, Mr. Steele? I'm Margaret Russell. I'll be with you and Mrs. Steele tonight." Remington stared out the window.

"Is there anything you need?" Still silence.

Margaret slid into the chair next to him and touched his arm. "Mr. Steele, I know this is difficult, but we need to talk to her. Why don't you tell me how you met?"

Remington finally lifted his head to look at her; his face stained with dried tears, and began to laugh. Not a little giggle, but a full force belly laugh.

"Miss Russell…"

"Margaret, call me Margaret."

"Margaret, that's a story no one would believe, I'm afraid."

At least she had him talking. She smiled, hoping he would go on.

Remington knew he couldn't tell the truth, ever, but maybe he could tell her something. It was better than the alternative.

"I saw her for the first time through binoculars and I forgot why I was there." He stood and turned toward the window, his hands shoved in his pockets.

"Did she see you?"

"Huh, no," he said with a grin. "We weren't formally introduced until the next day." He returned to his seat, scooting it closer to Laura's bed. The beeping of the monitors threatened his undoing.

"So what did _she_ think?"

"About me?" He laughed again. "Who knows, Margaret, but I think I made an unforgettable impression."

Now, Margaret was laughing.

What he _did_ remember about that first meeting, he couldn't share. Her chocolate brown eyes, her gorgeous hair flowing around her shoulders, how he wanted to undress every last bit of her and take her then and there. There was no one else in the room as far as he was concerned. Besides, he'd just lied to Nurse Margaret. It turned out he did know how Laura felt. He grinned with the thought of what torture Laura would impart on Bernice if she knew their secretary had spilled every sordid detail about Laura's itchiness to seize him and his photo she kept in her desk drawer.

Just as he drifted into fantasy, Margaret interrupted, startling him.

"Oh, I'm sorry Mr. Steele." Remington readjusted in his seat. It would amuse Laura to know that even under these circumstances, she could get him going.

"So, you worked together as a couple all this time?"

"No."

"Oh."

He crossed his legs uncomfortably, regretting having to talk about personal details. But, it was better than listening to relentless beeping, so he trudged on. "Laura is an independent sort, Margaret." The nurse just stared. "She, um …" He slipped his hand under Laura's fingers through the plastic bars. "She made me work for every last bit of this relationship, and I can't say it wasn't worth it."

"It must be nice to have someone like that." Remington smiled politely.

Fearing she was losing her audience, Margaret quickly threw out another query, "So, how did you propose?"

Remington looked at Laura and shook his head. Once they got out of this mess, they were going to have to come up with some fake answers for these questions because no one was going to buy the truth. He wondered if they would ever tell their son how they really met or how he came to be Remington Steele. He supposed they would have to. He wasn't going to keep secrets from his son the same way his father kept them from him.

"How did I propose? … the first time or the second?" Margaret didn't know what to say.

"Well, the first time, we were fighting about my decision to, um, about a wedding we'd just attended and after some discussion and a long trip in the agency limo, I begged her to marry me. We did it on a fishing trawler."

"Sounds romantic?" Margaret said, less than convinced.

Remington chuckled and squeezed Laura's hand. "When I found out the first try might not have been legal, I proposed again in Ireland during our honeymoon." He wasn't about to tell her the rest of that story.

_He'd woken up in the morning sunlight of Ashford Castle with Laura in his arms. Making love to her for the first time (and the second) was unbelievable and overwhelming. Waking up with her in the same bed was gratifying beyond his expectations, but he felt a pang of guilt. He still hadn't said the words she needed to hear, even though she'd resigned herself to not needing to hear them. _

_He slipped out from under her and grabbed his robe. With the help of Mildred and the castle staff, he gathered roses from the garden and retrieved the ring he'd bought weeks earlier when he intended to ask Laura to marry him. INS and his fear of rejection sidetracked that idea and he devised his wickedly stupid plan to marry Clarissa._ He shook his head, still disappointed at his lapse in judgment.

_He tucked the ring under the bed and lit the few candles he could find, then dropped his robe and leaned against the mattress._

"_Laura," he whispered, brushing the back of his hand across her cheek. "Laura, love, wake up."_

_She needed to wake up soon. Between her nakedness, his state of undress and the memory of the night before, he wasn't going to make it to a proposal. _

"_Laura."_

_She rustled in the satin sheets and slowly sat up. "Hi. … What are you doing down there?" She ran her hand through her hair and rubbed her eyes, eventually noticing he was nude. He cradled her hand and adjusted to one knee. Her eyes widened, and she started to speak._

"_Laura, please. I need to say this before I succumb to the urge to once again utilize our honeymoon bed." Laura smiled and leaned to kiss him._

_He breathed heavily. "I want to do this right, Laura. You deserve nothing less." Now tears threatened to fall and she had to bite her lip._

"_I love you. I've loved you longer than I care to admit, and I know you love me. I can't imagine my life without you, and after all of this, after everything I've put you through, if you'll still have me, I'd like to marry you. … Will you marry me, Laura? For real?" _

_She couldn't hold back. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she laughed her answer, "Yes, yes, I'll marry you." Remington forgot about the flowers and the ring and pushed her back onto the bed with him on top of her. Mid-kiss, he remembered. "Wait." He slid the ring box from under the bed and opened it. On a bed of velvet, sat a platinum ring centered with a deep blue stone surrounded by diamonds._

"_That's not?"_

"_I'm afraid it is." His impish grin was irresistible. He slipped the ring on her finger, and fell forward as she pulled his shoulders toward the bed. He tasted her sweat from their passionate turn the night before and delved into her kiss. If he'd known what he'd been missing all of these years, he never would have waited this long to sample her skills. Wilson was wrong. She wasn't just absurdly passionate, she was intense and fun and sweet and giving. This was a woman unlike any other._

Remington shook from the memory when the monitor started to beep wildly and Margaret jumped from her seat. "Code blue," she urgently voiced into the speaker, pressing the button on the edge of Laura's bed. "Code blue!"

"Mr. Steele, we need to get you into the hallway. … Please? We can do more for her with you out of the room."

Remington stood and looked at Laura's finger. Her ring was gone.

To Be Continued


	2. Chapter 2

Reminiscent Steele

Vol. 10; Ch. 2

(Rating: K+)

Remington wasn't joking with the detective. Every ounce of fear and anxiety had to come out somewhere and Jarvis was the victim.

"You find that ring Jarvis, or I'll find a way to have your badge!"

Detective Jarvis gave up on the argument. He wasn't going to continue a phone conversation with a man whose wife was dying. He knew the likelihood of recovering from severe head trauma was less than hopeful, and he wasn't going to force the man to waste his last moments chatting with police. Besides, Jarvis was too busy trying to figure out why Laura Steele was in Stewart Callahan's car and why it had tumbled off of a Malibu Canyon road.

"OK, Steele. I'll get right on it." Remington hung up without saying goodbye.

He paced outside of Laura's door; taking peeks through the sliver of a window on every other pass. He hadn't returned to the room since medics revived her a second time from heart failure.

"Mr. Steele." It was Margaret.

"I don't have time right now, Margaret." 

"I know, but Dr. Walker said the best thing for her is to hear your voice. She might not be able to respond, but she can hear us." Remington wasn't sure what to think, but he wasn't in the mood for another fight, so he acquiesced.

Remington stood in the corner of the room, staring at Laura and rubbing his face. He held a deep breath, then sighed a response to Margaret. "I called her sister."

"That's good."

"Is it? What am I supposed to tell my son? 'Mommy is dying so come and say goodbye?'" He thrust his hands in the air with desperation.

"I know it's hard, Mr. Steele, but we need to focus … for your wife's sake. She made it through the night and that's a great sign. I think if we talk a little more, we can help her."

Remington turned toward the wall and leaned against it with both palms. "Fine, if you say so."

Margaret slid a chair next to Laura's bed, catching Remington's attention. He calmed before sitting down, holding onto the edge. "So, where were we?"

"Ireland, I believe."

Remington slumped in the chair. "Right."

"You proposed…"

"Yes, I remember. Well, we did little more the next several days than spend time in bed." Remington chuckled as he turned toward the window to catch the sun rising. "It was a magnificent room with 20-foot ceilings, cherry-wood floors and plush violet draperies. It was ours, the castle, and we made the most of it. Of course, keeping a castle wasn't practical and we needed to return to LA, so we bequeathed it to the staff."

"That was nice."

"More of a necessity really."

Silence gripped the room once more and Margaret seemed to struggle to find another point of discussion. Remington stared at the waving palm trees as he worked through his last conversation with Laura. Why was she so concerned? Did she think it was a set-up? What was it she said about Callahan? Dammit, he should have listened.

"Mr. Steele?"

"If we're going to continue these conversations, at least do me the courtesy of calling me Remington."

"Of course. … Remington. That's an interesting name. Were you named after someone in your family?"

Good Lord, were there any questions he could answer that didn't involve lying? _Yes, Margaret, I was named after a typewriter, and while we're on the subject, it's not my real name. My wife made it up. I don't know my real name or my mother, for that matter, and my father was an international thief._ He lifted his eyes to study her as he thought of an answer.

"I'm not sure where she got the name, Margaret, but yes, I've grown quite fond of it."

Laura flinched in the bed, brushing against Remington's arm and sending him to his feet. He clasped her hand with both of his. "Laura! Laura, can you hear me? Laura, it's Remington, can you hear me?" No movement. "It's alright, sweetheart, I'm right here. I'm right here talking to Margaret about how we met, about Ashford Castle and how we, um, about Ireland. Remember? Please let me know you can hear me. Squeeze my hand. Can you do that?" Nothing.

Remington dropped his head onto their hands. "Daniel needs you Laura. I can't do this on my own. Do you understand? You need to fight for him, for me, for us." He could barely breathe. The tension in his chest kept him from standing and he started to fall onto the bed. Margaret grabbed his shoulders.

"Remington, here, she'll let us know she's listening when she's ready." She guided him the chair, but he refused to sit, choosing to pace along the wall at the far end of the room.

"Do you know why we're here, Margaret? Do you!" Startled, she shook her head. "Because of me. Me. Because I refused to let her drop this case over a goddamned fee. And now she's …" He couldn't bring himself to say the word. "I'm a real hero."

"Maybe this is a good time for a break. I'll come back later." Margaret turned to leave the room. Remington dropped his hands and sighed in resignation.

"I'm sorry. Please. Stay. You said talking to her would help so that's what I want to do." Margaret inched back into the room, but stayed by the door. Remington slumped into a dark corner with only his legs visible in the light. "Please, ask me another one of your questions."

"OK." She moved closer to the bed. "Tell me about Daniel."

"Our son? What do you want to know?"

"How did you find out? That she was pregnant, I mean."

Remington calmed himself and closed his eyes. It was almost 11 years ago, but he could still smell her perfume from the night she told him he was to become a father.

_He knew something was up when Mildred stared at him every time he walked through the office. _

_ "What?"_

_ "Nothing," she would offer, then giggle. _

_ By the afternoon, he'd had enough. "Laura, what in bloody hell is going on?" He leaned his thin frame against her file cabinets and propped one hand on his hip._

_ "What do you mean?" Laura could barely keep from giggling herself, but she turned just in time to hide her thrill._

_ "You bloody well know what I mean. Every time I walk through the lobby, Mildred stares at me like a school girl and then giggles as I walk away. And, this morning, when she brought me my newspaper and tea, she was downright giddy."_

_ "I don't know, Mr. Steele, maybe she's happy about the raise we're giving her at the end of the month." Remington wasn't convinced. He stared at Laura and then huffed back to his office. _

_ It wasn't until that night at the condo that he understood. He found a letter under his plate as he collected dinnerware. "Laura, what's this?"_

_ "Open it."_

_ She stood at the edge of the dining room, watching his face change as he read it. It had been a few years since he'd written his first letter of commitment to her on the beach at the Sensitivity Spa, and she was fairly certain this was going to top it. _

_My dear Remington,_

_I never thought our lives would come to this moment – our marriage, our friendship, our love. I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you. _

_ But, now we have a chance to take the next step, to make our partnership a threesome. We have a chance to make a family, our family, just like you always wanted._

_So, when you're ready, come and give me a hug because you're going to be a daddy. _

_ My love always, Laura_

_Remington held the letter with a strong grip and looked up, a tear falling onto the paper when he found her. She smiled and walked toward him. The last time he cried on her shoulder was after his father's death and that was more regret than sadness. This was different. They wiped each other's tears and laughed through the sniffles. _

_ He held her face to capture her gaze and then said with conviction, "I love you, Laura." The kiss that followed was wanting and deep. Their hands wandered, and began to tear at each other's clothes, scattering more than one button across the floor. This was elation that needed to be celebrated, and not in the dining room. Remington walked his bride backward toward their bedroom, dangling one piece of clothing after another across the credenza and the back of the couch, until they were bedside with nothing left other than black briefs and a dainty red slip._

_ "Is this OK?"_

_ "You mean will we hurt the baby? It's fine." The last time she'd seen him here with a baby, he was singing Irish lullabies to little Caruso. Still slightly off-kilter, Remington didn't know what to think, but he felt good, and what Laura was doing to him now was __exquisite__._

Remington opened his eyes and saw Margaret staring. He wasn't sure what he'd said out loud, but he was sweating and was suddenly glad his lap was facing away from her. He touched his forehead, then looked at her and grinned. "It was the best night of my life."

Margaret smiled and checked the readings on Laura's monitor. With a glance to her watch she asked, "It's lunchtime. Since you told me yesterday you didn't want to leave for food, I'll go to the cafeteria and get you a sandwich. Sound good?"

"If you must."

"You have to eat Remington. Besides, I need to leave. Det. Jarvis wants to speak to you again about Laura's accident." Margaret left the room and signaled for Jarvis and two officers to enter.

"Steele, can we speak to you in the hall?" Remington followed them and quietly shut the door behind him. "Did Laura say anything about being followed the other night?"

"No, why?"

"Because a secretary at the law firm said she saw a dark pick-up leave the parking lot every day right after Laura. She figured they knew each other, so she didn't think anything of it until the accident."

"So, who owns the pick-up?"

"That's just it. No one who works at the firm owns a pick-up and there's no time card that matches the hours he was shown coming and going."

"So, he never left the vehicle?"

"Possibly. It seems he was there for one reason and one reason only, to follow your wife."

To Be Continued


	3. Chapter 3

Reminiscent Steele

Vol. 10; Ch. 3

(Rating: K+)

Frances gathered some clothes and a toothbrush to drop off at the hospital. Remington had resisted her visit, not because he wanted to sleep in the same suit for two days, but because he didn't know what to say to Daniel. His son knew his mom was injured and in the hospital, but had no idea how devastating it was, and it would be Remington's job to tell him.

Remington brushed his hand through his hair and swigged the mouthwash Margaret had brought him the day before. He was waiting at the nurse's station when the elevator doors opened. Before he could say hello, Daniel ran to hug him and held on tight. Remington looked up at Frances. "Thank you for bringing him."

She walked over and caressed his arm, then kissed his cheek. "Can I see her?"

"Yes. Room 667. But, Frances …"

"I know."

Remington looked down at Daniel and struggled to keep it together. One of them needed to be strong, and it wasn't going to be the 10 year old. "Daniel, look at me."

His son had beautiful blue eyes and Laura's blonde-streaked hair. He was lean and muscular and had the most captivating smile. "Danny, I need to talk to you before you see mom. Sit down." As they sat on a cushioned bench, Remington slipped an arm around his shoulder. "Your mom was in a car accident and she hit her head. It's not a good thing when your head gets bumped. Do you understand?

"I think so."

"She's not doing well, but the doctors are working very hard to help her and so am I."

"Is she going to die?" Tears welled in his eyes, his hand squeezing Remington's.

"I don't know, but we can help her by talking to her. Can you do that with me?"

Daniel nodded and the two walked arm-in-arm to Laura's room. He saw Aunt Frances and another woman standing by the bed. "Margaret, this is Daniel." She smiled at Remington and walked to hug the boy. "Nice to meet you, Daniel. Your dad has told me so much about you."

"Is my mom going to die?" Margaret maintained her smile and leaned to show him the sensor on Laura's finger. "See this red glow? That means your mom is fighting very hard to get better. She wants to see you, and go home with you and your dad." Margaret looked at Remington.

"I told him he could help by talking to her, telling her stories."

"Oh, definitely, do you want to help us Daniel?"

"Yes."

"OK, then sit down right here by your mom's bed. You can hold her hand if you'd like. So, tell me about your mom."

Remington watched his son's eyes light up and then he looked at Laura. Her beautiful hair was crumpled under layers of bandages and her bruised face was almost unrecognizable. He drifted into thought about the last time she was in a hospital bed, the day Daniel was born. She'd never been lovelier.

_As she fed their new baby, he sat quietly and stroked her hair. He was so proud; he wanted to tell the world.___

_ "The Tribune wants to run a small blurb about our new arrival. I told them to go ahead."___

_ "You did, did you?"___

_ "I did." _

_She smiled and caught his kiss.___

_ "Laura, can I ask you something?"___

_ "Hmm?"___

_ "This father thing; I'm not positive I know what I'm doing."___

_ "I haven't done this before either."___

_ "Yes, but you at least __had__ a family. I had no one to teach me."___

_ "You had Daniel. You may not have known he was your father, but he was there for you."___

_ "So, you want me to teach our son how to pick locks and talk Turkish heiresses out of their inheritance?" If her hands were free, he knew she would have punched him.__He caught the look and moved out of range. __If there was anyone who could breastfeed a newborn and coldcock him at once, it was no doubt Laura Holt.___

_ "So, what should we name him?" Remington asked, trying desperately to change the subject.___

_ "I don't know. I always thought Harry was nice."___

_ "Egh."___

_ "And, you have a better idea?"___

_ "Actually, I do. … How about Daniel Holt Steele, eh?"___

_ Laura looked at her son and said "Daniel. Daniel. Danny. … But, there's already a Danny in the family."___

_ "Then, we'll stick with Daniel. Besides that Danny is an obnoxious one he is and he'll be long gone before Daniel is old enough to notice. … So?" ___

_ Laura looked at their infant son again. "Daniel. OK, Daniel it is. … Now, next question, where is he supposed to sleep?" __  
_  
Remington jostled from his daydream in time to hear Margaret's last questions. "…. That's great. And, does she make you do chores?"

"Yes, she makes me clean up after my dad when he cooks. She told me she did it for years and now it's my turn." Remington chuckled.

"Is your dad a good cook?"

"Yes, really good. He makes French stuff I can't say. … And, I'm not supposed to tell mom this, but he takes me to archery practice and we go flying sometimes."

While Daniel went on with full-force tattle telling on his dad, Remington leaned into Frances. "I need to talk to detectives. Can you stay with him?"

"Of course, take your time."

Remington met Det. Jarvis and a lieutenant in a small room off of the ER lobby.

"The photos from the outdoor security camera don't do us much good," Jarvis said as he slid the first photo to Remington. "But, the cameras indoors yielded a hit." He pointed to a shot of Laura talking to their client, Rollins. It was a boring succession of photos until Jarvis flipped to the last three. The first showed Laura turning to answer the phone, the second depicted Rollins slipping something in her coffee and the third showed Laura drinking from the cup.

"What was in the drink?"

"We don't know yet," the lieutenant chimed. "Nothing showed up in your wife's blood that would indicate poison or a drug, but we're still looking."

"Have you considered that it might not be traceable?"

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is a drug you can't find unless you know it's there. We've come across more than one case where a drug called digitalis leaf was used to mimic death, but the victim was still very much alive."

"We'll check on that, sir."

"You do that." Remington crossed his legs and leaned to the side, putting his fingers to his lips. "Is that it?"

"No, sir."

"Then do you mind sharing the rest?"

"Yes, sir. I mean no sir." The young lieutenant looked to Jarvis, who grinned and shook his head. "Please continue lieutenant."

"Right. The video doesn't show how Mrs. Steele ended up with keys to Mr. Callahan's car or why she had these." The officer handed Remington a manila envelope. "Do you know what they mean?"

Remington pulled two clear evidence bags from the pouch. One bag held a folded plain white scarf. The other, a gold coin that he had seen before. "Oh. Laura, why didn't you tell me?" Remington pushed out of his chair and headed to a phone.

"Sir, you can't take that. It's evidence!"

Jarvis stopped Remington at the door. "Steele?"

"I'm just borrowing it, detective. I think I know who did this." 

To Be Continued


	4. Chapter 4

Reminiscent Steele

Vol. 10; Ch. 4

(Rating: K+)

Two-to-one this Callahan fellow was anyone but Stewart Callahan. Remington suspected who it was, but he needed Mildred's help.

"Pick up, pick up … Mildred, great, can you look up these names for me."

"How's Miss Holt?" For Mildred, old habits died hard, so Miss Holt it was. Laura didn't mind. She actually liked hearing the old moniker. "Boss?"

"She's better than she was two days ago, Mildred, but we won't know until tonight. Now, can you take these names for me so I can catch the bastard who did this?"

"Shoot."

"See what you can find on Milton Rollins, Stewart Callahan and Major Descoine."

"Descoine?"

"Mildred, just do it and let me know what you find. And, don't tell anyone you talked to me, got it?"

"Got it, chief."

"And, while you're at it, lock the doors and get that new young security guard to walk you to your car."

Remington handed the evidence bags to Jarvis with no explanation of his theory, and returned to Laura's room.

He found Daniel holding court with Frances, Margaret, Donald and his cousins, all laughing. "What's so funny?"

Frances patted the couch beside her and scooted down. "Here, sit. My nephew is quite the entertainer, Remington."

"Is he now?" Remington flashed a curious look at Daniel. "And just what has the heir to the Steele Empire been sharing today?"

"I just told them about that case we were on, dad, remember?" Daniel winked at his dad, begging for help.

"Right, the case. We were buggered on that one until Daniel helped us out." Daniel straightened his back proudly and smiled.

"Now," Remington clapped his hands, "I think it's best for Laura if we give her a little peace and quiet." He kissed his son on the head and squeezed a hug. "You can come back tomorrow, alright?"

"Alright. Make her better, OK, daddy? I miss her."

"I miss her too, son."

As the sun set on Laura's crucial second day, Remington sat in the recliner and leaned back with his hands behind his head. Margaret had gone home. It was just he and his wife.

"Laura, I could really use your help on this one. I'm fairly certain Descoine is behind it, but I'm not sure why, or how to go about proving it. I'll admit you were always the brains behind this operation." He watched for movement or some sign of Laura Holt defiance, but nothing.

He sighed and sat up. "Margaret said to talk to you, so I guess that's what I'll do, not that I'm enjoying this mind you. Honesty is not my strong suit." He slid his hand around hers.

"I miss you, Laura."

He scooted closer to the bed and leaned against the edge. He would have climbed into it with her if they'd let him. He tried once when he thought no one was looking and got a stern glare from the floor nurse. He repositioned his hand and rubbed his thumb across her fingers.

"Do you know when I first started loving you? Not wanting you – I wanted you the moment I saw you – but loving you?" He looked to make sure she was still unconscious. He certainly didn't want this to come back on him. Laura Holt never let him offer a confession without making him pay. Assured the room was safe, he continued. "It was during the first weekend we spent together … at the Devil's Playground." She would have fallen out of bed had she heard that one.

"I'll admit, Murphy was right, I lured you to that island with one purpose in mind and probably would have gone through with it, had you agreed. But, you didn't, did you? It was the first time I realized you didn't want Remington Steele or the fictional character you created, you wanted me. I was foolishly playing a part I thought I needed to maintain to stay in your life, and I was losing you because of it. Why you didn't sack me right then, I'll never know. I certainly deserved it." He paused, let go of her hand and rubbed his hands across his face. "Despite all that, you gave me another shot. I knew then, Laura, that you cared for me more than a figurehead, more than a business partner and certainly more than a notch on your bedpost as it were. You were in love with me and I hadn't seen it."

He leaned to look at her again. Surely, this was getting through. He wiggled her fingers, hoping for a sign, then bowed his head in disappointment.

"You know I kissed you that night as I watched you sleep. Your soft skin glowing, the satin sheets clinging to your breasts. I wanted nothing more than to slide next to you and hold you in my arms, and not for the obvious reason. I wanted to … you made me, well …" He couldn't believe he was going to say it, "You made me want to be a better man."

Suddenly, he felt a finger twitch against his hand. He rushed to look at her. "Laura! Can you hear me? I knew you wouldn't let me get away with it. You're very predictable, you know." He tapped her hand, and then gently smoothed his fingertips across her face. "Laura, wake up. Do you want to hear more? I can tell you more."

A sleepy grin appeared on her face and her eyes opened just enough to see him. "I think you've done enough for one day, Mr. Steele." She squeezed his hand and closed her eyes.

"Laura. Laura, don't. Stay with me. Can you hear me?" She grinned again.

Remington fumbled with the nurse call button. "Bloody hell. Laura, stay awake. I'm going to get a nurse. Can you stay awake for me?"

"Uh, huh."

Remington stuck his head into the hallway and yelled "NURSE!" until someone heard him. The shift nurse swung around the corner, "What is it, Mr. Steele?"

"My wife, she's awake." 

To Be Continued


	5. Chapter 5

Reminiscent Steele

Vol. 10; Ch. 5

(Rating: K+)

Laura closed her eyes in frustration. After what seemed like hours of interrogation from Jarvis and Remington, she couldn't remember one detail about why she was there or how the car she was driving ended up at the bottom of a canyon. If only she could remember what was so damn important.

"Don't worry about it Mrs. Steele," Jarvis conceded, looking at Remington, "Just take your time. I'll be back tomorrow."

Remington walked Jarvis to the elevator, then returned to find Laura turned on her side in the crumpled sheet, staring out of the window. As he rounded the corner of the bed, he noticed a tear sliding across her cheek.

"Laura…"

"I don't want to hear it, alright?"

"It'll come to you. Just give it time."

'That's not it." Laura put her hand to her face and began to sob in despair.

"Laura, what's wrong? It's OK."

"No, it's not." She sat up, tears soaking her hospital gown. "I almost left our son without a mother, and for what? A stupid case? What was I thinking? And, now I can't even help find the creep."

Remington sat on the edge of the bed, guiding her head to his chest, holding her as she shook. He hadn't comforted her like this since the night she lost her house, but this was different. This was their son, something they couldn't replace with a loft and a new set of clothes.

He wiped tears from her cheeks and held her face, watching her, remembering that rainy night at his apartment. Laura didn't need him often, but when she did, he found joy in his ability to save her. He slid his hands behind her neck, careful to avoid the bruises, and slowly let his lips search for hers until tender skin met. He followed every touch and caress. The softness stirred an innate longing. He wanted her; he wanted to feel life in her. "Laura," he whispered between kisses, "we'll get through this." She stopped, staying within inches. "One step at a time, you and me, eh?"

Laura nodded, sniffling to regain composure. He kissed her forehead and helped her back to the pillow, holding her hand until she fell asleep. He closed the curtains on the window and snuck out of the room to go over the case file. A nurse's voice startled him.

"Mr. Steele? You have a phone call." Remington made his way to the nurse's station and leaned over the counter to grab the receiver.

"Steele here."

"Mr. Steele, this is Milton Rollins. I need to meet you right away, my office."

"I'll be right there."

Surely Rollins could provide the evidence he needed to jar Laura's memory. Without it, there wasn't much hope in solving this case.

Remington paced the hardwood floor of Rollins, Carmichael and Lang, waiting for Milton Rollins to show. When their client walked through the double doors, he was greeted by a stiff grasp of the collar and a shove against the wall. "Hey!"

"I wanna know what kind of game you're playing here, Rollins."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Remington chuckled.

"Then let me jog your memory," Remington threatened, poking the man's forehead. "Did you slip something into Laura's coffee the morning of the accident?"

"Yes, of course, but I just talked to detectives about that. They know everything."

Remington relaxed his grip. "Care to enlighten me?"

"It was cream, Mr. Steele, nothing more."

"Cream? You poured cream into her coffee? Why would you do that?"

"Because Callahan told me to."

"Callahan?"

"Yes." Rollins sighed and looked at the floor. "Callahan said if I did a few things for him he would return the $2 million he stole, so I thought I could follow his instructions and no one would have to know. But, then I heard about Mrs. Steele and ..."

"This Callahan, what does he look like?"

"I don't know. I never met him." 

"But he was a partner in the firm?"

Rollins stared at Remington with the look of a troubled man. "I don't know how much you know about our firm Mr. Steele, but we deal with a lot of let's say shady characters. We mainly take care of their holdings, inheritances, stuff like that with no questions asked."

"And Callahan?"

"We were contacted by the tax commission and told we would face significant fines if we couldn't produce the books on some of these deals. They suggested we hire a new tax attorney in town who could handle these sorts of transactions and get us squared away without the clients knowing about it."

"Who did you talk to at the tax commission?"

"I've got her card in my desk." Remington backed off and followed Rollins into his office. As he walked, Rollins kept up the nervous chatter.

"She was young, short hair, maybe in her 20s. Ah, here it is. Her name is Lilly. Lilly Martin."

Remington froze, fighting thoughts bombarding his brain.

"Steele?"

"Um, right. Do you, uh, have her number?"

"Here, just take the card."

"Can you, um, tell me ... about Callahan?"

"The first few months were fine, then our accountant started to notice discrepancies in client portfolios. It was a little here and there at first, but then it disappeared in chunks that we couldn't account for. We couldn't tell our clients we'd lost their money, so we hired your agency to find the money before anyone knew it was gone."

"How did you know the thief was Callahan?"

"We didn't at first, then we began to notice that the only accounts with missing funds were the accounts we gave to Callahan for the tax situation. I didn't know for sure until he called."

"And offered you a deal?"

"Yeah. He said I had to do three things, then he would return the money, all $2 million."

"And what were the three things?" 

"One was to put cream in Mrs. Steele's coffee. He was very specific. It had to be when she wasn't looking and it had to be at her desk. Um, two, he said to drain the brake fluid from his car. Not sure why he asked for that one, but I did it. Seemed strange to me."

"And, three?"

"Three, he said to call Cedars-Sinai at exactly 10 p.m. and ask for you. I couldn't quite do 10 p.m., considering I was at the police station, but I called you from my car phone as soon as I could."

"Callahan asked you to call me tonight? At the hospital?"

"Yeah."

"Oh God, Laura!"

To Be Continued


	6. Chapter 6

Reminiscent Steele

Vol. 10; Ch. 6

(Rating: K+)

Remington didn't bother finding a proper parking space; instead, he slid to a stop in front of the emergency room entrance. He jumped from Laura's new Rabbit and ran up the stairs to the sixth floor. Gasping, he stumbled to her room, only to find it empty with a nurse making the bed.

"Miss, miss, where's my wife?"

"She just left to go to the cafeteria with her brother."

"Her brother?"

"Yes, kind of an older man, smiled a lot. He was pushing her in a wheel chair. She was kinda groggy."

"And, you let her go?"

"He had a family bracelet. Was I not supposed to?"

Remington didn't stick around to answer; he yelled for her to call police and forced the stairway door open before flying down each flight two jumps at a time. When he reached the basement, he realized he had no gun and no way to confront Descoine if he found him. He quietly walked the dimly lit halls around the edge of the closed cafeteria, his heart thumping loud enough to drown any call for help. "Icy calm, ol' chap, icy calm."

He forced a deep breath, then felt a hand grip his shoulder.

"Mr. Steele. We meet again."

Remington turned to find Descoine, a victorious smile already set on his face. "Descoine. Where is she?"

"Ah, ah, ah, Mr. Steele, not so fast. I intend to finally take away the one thing you stole from me; and this time I won't fail."

"You hurt her, Descoine, and I'll make sure you're removed permanently."

"Is that a threat, Mr. Steele, because you're wasting your time. She's already gone."

Anger and fear gripped Remington's chest. He never wanted to kill someone more. But, if Descoine had already reached his goal, he wouldn't be standing here. It was always about the challenge, the fear. Simply killing Laura wouldn't satisfy his lust to see Remington squirm. "You're bluffing, Descoine. We both know it's about the challenge or you would've made certain Laura never made it out of that canyon."

"Very perceptive, Mr. Steele. So, the game begins. When this is over, you will be forced to live a life of loneliness just as I have."

A loud crash of pans from the kitchen caught them both off-guard. Descoine fled down the hallway, leaving Remington to sprint for the kitchen. He found Laura on the floor out of the wheelchair, pulling herself up on the drawers and spilling the contents in the process. Descoine had taped her mouth once in the basement, and she was still groggy from the drug he'd slipped her to get out of the hospital room.

Remington slowly peeled the tape from her mouth. She gasped for air. "Descoine."

"I know."

"He's getting away!"

"I'm not leaving you."

"You've got to go after him or he'll never leave us alone. I'll be fine, go, go!"

Remington stared at Laura, shaking his head at his wife's unrelenting determination. He kissed her cheek and then, against his better judgment, ran from the room on the slim hope he could find the Major. He ran down the dark hallway in the direction Descoine fled, reaching the back loading dock of the medical center. When he pushed through the first set of double doors, Descoine thrust an arm across his throat and pulled him to the wall. Blood from Descoine's shoulder dripped onto Remington's skin and shortened breaths heaved in his ear; Descoine had been shot. "If I'm going down, I'm taking you with me."

Descoine shuffled outside with Remington in front of him and slouched to the pavement. SWAT team members appeared in windows above them with two men on the roof and a black-clad unit getting into position around the corner. They lined up their marks and the commander barked orders.

"Let him go! Now! You've got one chance. Let him go!"

If the sniper had a shot, Remington knew they would have taken it. He needed to get out of the way. He turned slightly to see Jarvis peer over the open door of the closest police unit. They stared at each other for several seconds, then Jarvis nodded. On that cue, Remington elbowed Descoine in the ribs and rolled flat on the ground as a shot rang from the second-floor window. Descoine slumped against the wall, a hole in his forehead. Remington stayed low, breathing rapidly with his mouth open, staring in shock. It was over.

"Steele, Steele …" Jarvis pulled Remington from the asphalt. "Are you alright?"

Remington stared at the detective. Without a word, he brushed himself off and jogged back to the kitchen. He found Laura with the medics and Nurse Margaret.

"How did you find her?"

"The floor nurse called 911 as you directed and sent them to the only place she'd heard Descoine mention on his way down."

"Is she…"

"She's fine Remington. We need to get her back upstairs just to make sure she's OK, but she appears to be unharmed other than the nasty Mickey he slipped her."

Remington reached for Laura's hand and held it as they lifted her back onto a gurney. He was stained with blood and sweating. Laura struggled to peak through heavy eyelids. "You're covered in blood."

"Yes, thankfully, it's not mine."

"Did they find … did they get him?"

"Yes, he won't be bothering us anymore."

"Are you alright?" Laura whispered.

Remington nodded. "I'll call Mildred and ask her to bring me a change of clothes, but until then you're stuck with me because I'm not leaving you again." 

_Three days later … _

Remington held Laura's elbow as he guided her through the door of the condo and into their bedroom, settling her onto the edge of the bed and dropping their three bags.

"I can't believe they let you come home so soon. I don't think this is a good idea."

"It was Margaret's doing, actually. She arranged a visit twice a day for a week, and after I promised to take it easy and follow instructions, it was a snap."

Remington stared at his wife with skepticism. Since when did Laura Holt follow instructions or take it easy. Her idea of slacking was showing up at the office at 9 instead of 7, although she'd improved the last few years, mainly for Daniel.

Laura caught his look. "What? I can follow rules … just because I never have doesn't mean I can't start now."

"Um, hmm."

Laura grabbed her husband's hand and pulled him to the bed beside her, throwing her leg over him and pinning him with a kiss. Finding his body unwilling to resist, Remington complied. He'd missed her. But, this isn't what the doctor ordered. "This is taking it easy?"

"A girl can only do so much. I don't know if you've noticed lately, but you're pretty irresistible."

"Laura, I haven't showered in three days. I smell and I'm sure parts of my clothing are now permanent."

Laura shook her head. "Then, maybe we can do something about that."

"Just what are you suggesting, Mrs. Steele?"

Laura stood from the bed and extended her hand. As naïve as he once thought she was, she had shown herself to be one of the sexiest creatures he'd ever encountered, and no one could flirt like his wife.

Laura flipped on the water and filled the room with steam before peeling off her shoes, jeans and t-shirt, leaving her in nothing but underwear.

"You certainly know how to distract me."

"You ain't seen nothin' yet."

Laura pulled Remington's shirt from his waistband. She slid her hands up his chest before pushing the shirt over his head. His shoes, socks, trousers and briefs came next. After days of near-death experiences, Laura took time to feel her way around the muscles of his shoulders, the heat of his back, his slender hips. Remington watched her explore before remembering his current state of cleanliness.

"Laura?" She grinned at his plea and stepped into the shower.

Remington was supposed to meet Jarvis at the office and catch up with Mildred before Frances arrived with Daniel. But, just as he convinced himself he needed to forgo this liaison and get to work, Laura pushed open the shower door, her hair wet and framing her face, covering the vanishing bruises on her cheek. He quickly dismissed the nagging idea in favor of taking care of more immediate needs.

"Are you coming?"

"God, Laura, you know I can't resist you."

"I'm counting on it." 

To Be Continued


	7. Chapter 7

Reminiscent Steele

Vol. 10; Ch. 7

(Rating: K+)

As the elevator doors closed behind him, Remington wiggled his tie knot into place and hooked the clasp. He breezed into Suite 1157 to find Det. Jarvis waiting on the lobby couch and Mildred overcome with an all-knowing grin.

"Hi boss."

"Mildred." He walked to Det. Jarvis before their secretary had a chance to interject prying questions.

"Det. Jarvis," he said shaking his hand, "Sorry, I'm late. It took a little longer than I expected to adjust to being home." At that, Mildred nearly burst out of her chair, stopped only by Remington's quick hand, signaling her to stay.

"Shall we?"

Once in Remington's office, Jarvis slumped onto the couch with his feet propped on the table as Remington made his way to his desk. "So, anything new on Descoine?"

"I'm sure Mildred told you he was released on parole eight months ago."

"She did."

"Well, apparently he devised this plan in prison and within a week of release had planted his daughter at the tax commission where they had access to letterhead, phone records, client files, everything they needed."

"And, what about Rollins?"

"Turns out Rollins' partner, Adam Lang, had represented Descoine in an earlier case, so Descoine knew the firm wasn't on the up-and-up."

The office door flung open. "Hel-lo." Laura sang as she strolled to Remington as if nothing was out of the ordinary. "Det. Jarvis how are you?"

"Mrs. Steele."

"Shouldn't you be at home resting?" Remington followed.

"What for? I'm fine. Besides, you didn't think I was going to let you finish this case on your own, did you? Who would do the paperwork?" Remington wrinkled his lips. Before he could respond, Margaret walked through the door.

"Margaret, do you really think this is a good idea? Laura running around like this?"

"No, but your wife is a very persuasive woman, Mr. Steele."

"That she is."

"Now," Laura chimed, hoping to change the subject, "where were you gentlemen?"

"I was just telling your husband about Rollins' partner representing Descoine in a case a few years ago, giving Descoine the information he needed to target Rollins, Carmichael and Lang, and eventually you."

"So, he had access to their tax records, knew they had something to hide and used it against them to get to us?"

"It looks that way."

"Why was Rollins so trusting that this Stewart Callahan would help them."

"In hindsight I'm sure they would have seen through the scam, but according to Rollins, they trusted the commission and their attorneys without fail, especially when they offered a way to discreetly handle their situation."

"And the pick-up?"

"Descoine sat outside the office building every day to learn everyone's comings and goings. When the time came, he knew when to access computer files, transfer funds and when to lure Laura from the parking lot."

"And, just exactly how did he do that?" Remington asked.

"Do you remember anything from that day, Mrs. Steele? A package, a note, a telephone call?"

"No, I'm sorry, I don't remember anything other than going to the law office that morning and waking up in the hospital."

"That's alright; we don't really need specifics. Based on what Rollins told us and the evidence we found, it looks like Descoine sent his calling cards with a note to meet him."

"What did the note say?"

"It said to meet him in 20 minutes at Piuma Roadon the west side of MalibuCanyon, driving his car. The keys were in the envelope. If she didn't make it by 8," Jarvis looked at Laura, "he said your son would not return home."

"Good Lord. No wonder she can't remember. She must have been traumatized."

"As Rollins told you, the car was leaking brake fluid, so by the time she reached the curve for Piuma, she couldn't stop."

Remington slid his hand over Laura's.

"And, Descoine's daughter?"

"We caught her before she could leave the commission's offices. She's not talking, but we have enough evidence to put her away for a while. Oh, and here," Jarvis reached into his pocket and pulled out a box. "We found this locked in the desk at the law firm."

Laura grabbed the box and opened it. It was her wedding ring. "Thank you, detective."

"No problem. … Well, I'll be going. Hopefully, I won't see you two for a while. Take care," Jarvis signaled and walked with Mildred to the lobby, swinging through the door opposite a giggling 10-year-old.

"Hi mom."

Laura reached for her son, who was almost as tall as she was, and held him to her. "Hi sweetheart."

"Mom, I know I'm supposed to go eat with you and dad, but Uncle Donald said they were going to see Mars Attacks and I really want to go. Can I? Please?"

Laura glanced at Frances and Remington in time to catch a wiggled brow. "Sure, but then home."

"Yea!" he yelled as he ran to the lobby. Frances smiled and kissed Laura's cheek. "We'll have him home by 6. You two have fun."

Mildred, Daniel, Frances and Margaret headed for the elevator. Remington closed the door and turned to Laura. "There's just one more thing."

"What's that?"

"While you were unconscious, they, uh, had me talking to you about various things, you and me mainly."

"Uh, huh."

"Well, I was wondering if you remembered anything, anything at all?"

"Most of it is foggy; more like a dream really."

"Ah, splendid."

"Except for one thing."

"Really? What?"

"Something about the Devil's Playground." The look on his face was comical and had her biting her lip to keep from laughing.

"But, I thought you told Jarvis you couldn't remember a thing."

"We all have our secrets, Mr. Steele," she prodded as she slid her fingers along the edge of his open shirt. "Now, are we going to stand here and fiddle away our afternoon or go make up for lost time?"

Remington might have been a sucker for her amusement, but he wasn't stupid. "Home it is, Mrs. Steele."

"And, by the way," Laura said as they exited the office, "you were right."

"About what?"

"The Devil's Playground. I _was_ in love with you."

Remington smiled and grabbed her hand, feigning a run to the elevator. She giggled behind him and reached up to kiss him as the elevators doors closed. He didn't let go. 

The End


End file.
